


Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away

by misslucyjane



Series: Lovers In a Dangerous Time [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s01e07 Greeks Bearing Gifts, Episode: s01e08 They Keep Killing Suzie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-28
Updated: 2007-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're not lovers. We're an experiment in interoffice politics."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> The dates don't quite match but we'll ignore that for the fluff.
> 
> Written for St. Dwynwen's Day at Torchwoodcoffee. I asked my f-list for elements and got "the stopwatch" and "the lyrics to Such Great Heights."
> 
> Thank you and a cuppa Ianto's coffee to my lovely Ygrane for the hand-holding when I am flaily.

"Right, I'm off," Gwen said gleefully as she put on her jacket. "Rhys is taking me to the symphony tonight, can you believe it? Us, at the symphony?"

"What's the occasion?" said Tosh, smiling, caught up in Gwen's eagerness.

"It's St. Dwynwen's Day," Gwen said. "Like Valentine's Day, only with national pride."

"Oh, lord," said Owen, "that means Rhys'll spend too much money, poor bloke, and then you'll spend all night shaggin'."

Gwen shook her head woefully. "I know. Terrible, isn't it?" She laughed and nearly danced into the lift. "Don't wait up!" she called as the door rolled shut behind her.

"Must be nice," Tosh murmured, turning back to her computer. Behind her back, Owen gave a meaningful, slightly mocking look to Ianto, and then ambled over to Tosh's workstation.

"No plans tonight, then?" He leaned on her desk, moving his elbow when she gave him a pointed glance. "Not attending the concert? No parties?"

"My invitation must have got lost in the mail," she said crisply.

Owen gave another odd look to Ianto, who just watched, impassive. He said, jerking his head towards the lift, "Come on, then. No reason for a girl like you to be sitting at home on a night like this."

"I don't need a pity date," Tosh said.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, it's not a pity date, it's St. Dwynwen's Day and--and it'll be an honor."

She melted at that, and grabbed her jacket. "Thank you, Owen," she said, and her eyes were shining as they left the Hub.

Ianto smiled to himself and set about cleaning up. He'd only gotten to picking up the tea cups when Jack called from the top of the stairs, "I'm suddenly without a team."

"It's a holiday, sir. They've gone off to celebrate."

"Oh," Jack said regretfully, "and I didn't get you a card."

"I'm sure I'll manage, sir." He added, "Dydd Santes Dwynwen hapus."

"And. . . right back at you, unless you just called me a twelve-horned dweedlepus, in which case I'll have to ask you to step outside."

"You really ought to learn the language sometime, sir," Ianto said, trying not to smirk.

"Oh, I don't know," Jack said, coming slowly down the stairs. "People seem to understand me just fine without any fancy linguistics." He stopped in front of Ianto. "You have no problems understanding me."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Ianto said. "You're still an object of study."

Jack cocked his head. "Say that again. Duth-"

"Dydd Santes Dwynwen hapus," Ianto said. "Happy St. Dwynwen's Day."

"Dydd Santes Dwynwen hapus," Jack repeated slowly. 

"Very good," Ianto said, "before you know it you'll be talking like a native."

Jack chuckled, looking at him thoughtfully. "I didn't get you a card."

"I wasn't expecting one, sir."

"Still. It's a day for lovers, isn't it?"

Ianto paused. Jack was in the mood for teasing, apparently, but Ianto was not. "I would hesitate to call us lovers."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you don't love me." Jack crossed his arms at this, looking skeptical. "And for another, can you truly see the two of us going out for supper and the symphony tonight? I can't. I mean, generally when going out with someone it means actually going out now and again. But I'll be happy if we actually make it to a bed tonight instead of just having sex on your desk."

Jack studied him, his eyes narrowed a bit like he was looking at something he didn't quite know how to categorize. "You want to go out? We can go out. I think you and I are perfectly capable of doing--whatever it is that couples do."

Ianto took out his stopwatch and clicked it on. "You haven't touched me for eleven hours. If you think you can hold out longer, I'm willing to let you."

"I will astound you," Jack said, "with my maturity and self-control."

"Three seconds, sir."

Jack laughed. "Right. All right. Let's do this: go home, dress up, and meet me back here in an hour, and I will prove to you that I am capable of more than just--"

"Using me for my body."

"Exactly." He started to reach for Ianto, who gave a meaningful glance at the stopwatch. Jack laughed again and dropped his hand. "Right. Right. Mature and in-control. See you in an hour, Ianto," He took the stairs at a near-run.

 _Six seconds,_ Ianto thought and put the stopwatch in his pocket. _A new record._

* * *

Still, he did as he was told: went home, showered, shaved, and changed clothes as if he truly were going out tonight instead of what he expected to happen: Jack would get distracted, as it had been a long day, and they'd have sex in his office or perhaps even on the couch. That had happened once--Ianto had used half a bottle of fabric disinfectant on it afterwards.

He returned to Torchwood. Jack was waiting for him in Reception, looking smarted-up and happy, handsome in his usual blue. "How are we doing?"

"Twelve hours, fifteen minutes and fifty-three seconds."

"If I kiss you, does that negate the results?"

"I think that depends on the kind of kiss," Ianto said, and Jack's smile got a wolfish edge for a moment.

"I'll try to control myself," he whispered and kissed Ianto lightly. "Hi."

"Hello, sir," Ianto said, amused. 

"And how about if I hold your hand? Is that allowed?"

"Sir, all things considered, there's not much that _isn't_ allowed." He left his hand in Jack's and followed him out to the street and around to the front of the Millennium Centre. "Where are we going?"

"Not far. The symphony's sold out but I got us a table at Brazz." He held open a door for him. "So not quite the evening I was envisioning, but still more than you expected, am I right?"

"Much more," Ianto said, and let Jack take his hand again as they walked into the cafe. The performance had already begun and the cafe was quiet and nearly deserted. They were taken to their table right away and placed their orders, and Jack looked pleased with himself as their waiter left.

"Happy Saint--say it again for me?"

"St. Dwynwen," Ianto said, and crossed his arms on the tabletop. "Jack."

"Ianto," Jack said, trying to match his serious tone.

"Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove?"

"Why do I have to be proving anything?" Jack said, mystified. "It's a holiday for lovers and we're--"

"We're not lovers."

"You're interrupting me a lot tonight."

"Well, we're not." He flipped through the drinks and desserts menu. Jack leaned his head on his hand, watching him. Ianto said, "We're an experiment in interoffice politics."

"Is that so." He leaned closer. "You still don't trust me entirely, do you."

Ianto pushed the menu away. "You have saved my life on numerous occasions. That accounts for something."

"Oh, good," said Jack. "I was starting to think this whole thing was repugnant to you. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. This. I don't--" He glanced at the other diners and pitched his voice lower. "I prefer it when it's just sex, Jack. That, at least, I understand."

"Well, it certainly is simpler," Jack said. "We're not lovers because I don't love you, is your take on it. But what about you, Ianto? What's your side of the equation?"

"None of your business."

"It's entirely my business. Since you've decided what I feel, you could at least share what you feel with me." He paused, and when Ianto didn't answer, added, "Ianto, you're not the only one figuring things out as we go."

Ianto straightened his flatware on the napkin. 

Jack said after a moment more, "The thing with an experiment is, you may have to reevaluate your hypothesis once you have the actual results. Any good scientist knows that."

"I don't know what my hypothesis is," Ianto said. "I try to figure you out with numbers and times and observations and it just doesn't work."

"That's because I'm a man, not a tsetse fly."

"I'm not making jokes!" He glanced at the other diners again, who were looking at their table at his outburst.

Jack didn't look away from him. "Why does it have to make sense? Why can't it just be what it is?"

"What is it?" Ianto said, struggling to keep his voice low. "We're boss and employee who sleep together."

"Is that all we are?"

Before he could answer, the waiter returned with their food and set the plates carefully on the table. "Is everything all right?" he asked, his voice showing a little more than professional concern.

"We're fine, thank you," Jack told him, and fixed his gaze on Ianto again. "Ianto," he said when the waiter had left, "if this is too much to deal with we could just go back to the Hub and have sex. There's no second-guessing about that." He leaned forward again. "Or, we could eat this fabulous dinner and actually talk to each other and figure out . . . whatever it is that needs figuring out. Which is a lot more than I initially thought."

Ianto poked his salmon with his fork. "You and I approach relationships in different ways. You like things to be simple, with no regrets and no strings." Jack raised his eyebrows, watching Ianto speak. "And I like being in love."

"I like being in love too, Ianto."

"Do you? Is that what you tell yourself when you go home with yet another stranger? That you're in love?"

"No," Jack said slowly, "that's what I tell myself when I meet someone who has meaning to me--who I like, who I enjoy being with, who I like looking at and talking to."

"Your grammar's terrible."

Jack half-smiled. "I've been dumped for worse reasons."

"I don't want to dump you."

"It'd be terrible on a day like today. It would break my heart." He jerked his hand across his chest and imitated a cracking sound. Ianto didn't smile and Jack sighed. "This is only happening because you want it to. You say the word and we're over. I'll understand."

"You heart would mend easily enough," Ianto said. "Aren't I just an easy shag when you want one?"

"This conversation proves you're anything but easy."

"You don't love me."

Jack's gaze was steady, his voice quiet. "Well, that's where you'd be wrong. Maybe I do love you." He thought it over, then gave a slight nod. "Yes."

Ianto looked away again. "I see," he said.

"What, no 'I love you too'? C'mon, you can do it. People say it all the time. Just 'I love you too, Jack.' 'I love you too.'"

"Stop it," Ianto said.

Jack leaned back in his chair. "Okay. Just tell me this: have you stopped hating me?"

"Yes, of course I have," Ianto said, and wondered, as he always did when he chose to consider it, how he was able to forgive and let go and allow this man to mean so much to him. Further proof, he supposed, of the inexplicable nature of love. 

"Well," Jack said softly, "that's a start." He ate a little of his supper, a complicated dish involving figs and prosciutto, still watching Ianto. "Your hypothesis is incorrect," he said eventually. "Your equation's off. Mine is too, I think," he added more softly.

"Oh, of course I love you, don't be daft," Ianto said, and Jack laughed out loud. "Don't gloat, either."

"I'm not," said Jack, shaking his head. "I'm not gloating. I'm happy. You haven't figured that out yet, have you? You make me happy. I'm having fun. I thought you were, too."

"I haven't thought much about happiness, sir," Ianto muttered.

"I suppose not--you've been too busy fondling your stopwatch."

"It's a very useful stopwatch."

"It's a very useful reason not to think about happiness. Trying to fit puzzle pieces together and not seeing the bigger picture."

"And what's the bigger picture, sir?" Ianto said, and for once he didn't feel like he knew the answer already.

"You and I," said Jack. "Being happy. It's not about minutiae. It's not about how often I cut my hair or how long it takes me to drink my morning coffee. It's not about facts, Ianto--it's about all the things you can't measure."

"A more platonic ideal, perhaps," Ianto said.

"Well." Jack laughed again. "I'm not saying I want to stop sleeping with you. But tonight, at least, that's become secondary. Try to control your shock."

"All this isn't a seduction?"

"Ianto," Jack said, faintly chastising, "I'm a sure thing."

Ianto laughed, startled into it. "Well," he said. "Well."

"Eat," said Jack. "The night's not over yet."

Ianto ate. Jack, as was his habit, began to tell stories, outrageous and nearly unbelievable, and Ianto listened and laughed and felt . . . happy. _Jack,_ he thought, _is the center of attention no matter where he is; but tonight, I'm the center of his._

When they left the cafe the symphony had ended. Jack kept hold of Ianto's hand so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd, and he hummed to the music that played through the Centre as the audience streamed out. "This was a good idea, wasn't it?" he said, nudging Ianto's shoulder with his own.

"Yes," Ianto said. "Much better than cold pizza back at the Hub." He wanted to lean his head on Jack's shoulder but there were too many people around.

"Plenty of that again tomorrow," Jack said, and stepped closer to him as they left the Centre and met the cold night air. "We'll all be back to normal then." 

There was a busker playing guitar near the water tower, singing in a voice that was high and sweet. Jack and Ianto paused to listen, and Jack dropped a few coins into the man's guitar case. The man smiled and nodded in thanks, not losing a beat of his song. "'They will see us waving from such great heights,'" he sang. "'Come down now, they'll say. But everything looks perfect from far away. Come down now, but we'll stay.'"

Jack looked at Ianto, then grinned and swept Ianto into his arms and began to waltz him across the plaza. Ianto laughed, holding onto him. "Sir, I don't know how to follow."

"You're doing fine--just dance backwards--" He spun them around and around, ignoring any shocked looks from the people around them. "If someone can be your Valentine, can someone be your Dwynwen, too?"

"I see no reason why not."

Jack tried to look as serious as he could. "Be my Dwynwen, Ianto."

"But that means you'll be encased in ice, sir, and that would be a horrible waste."

"Would you miss me?"

"Dreadfully."

Jack stopped waltzing, leaving his arms around Ianto. He said, all trace of joking gone, "I love you, you know."

"I'm learning it," Ianto said quietly.

"Say it back," Jack whispered with a conspiratorial nod. "Say it back, please."

"I love you too, sir. Jack."

"Much better." He pulled Ianto to him, and Ianto lay his head on his shoulder and relaxed in his arms. If Jack didn't care about all the people around them, then neither would he. They danced in a slow circle, holding each other, to the sound of the water tower and the gentle guitar. 

Eventually Jack said, "How are we doing on time?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Ianto said frankly. "The experiment is over. The results are inconclusive."

"I think they're pretty obvious. We can meet in the middle. A lot of couples go for years without ever realizing that."

"Are we a couple, sir?" Ianto whispered against Jack's neck.

"I think we are. Despite our best intentions we seem to have an actual relationship going on." He kissed Ianto's forehead.

"It could be worse," Ianto said. "We could not like each other at all."

"No fear of that." He stopped dancing and held Ianto's face in his hands. "So. Chaste kiss good night, see you in the morning?"

"Oh, I think that's much too conventional, sir." He slid his hand down Jack's arm to clasp his hand tightly. "I have my car."

"Oh," Jack said, looking interested. "That's a very good idea."

"I thought so, sir. And there's clean sheets on the bed."

"Another very good idea."

"They come to me out of nowhere, sir." 

"You're _so_ much more than just a pretty face," Jack said and tugged on his hand, drawing him towards the parking lot.

* * *

Morning, like any other morning, though Gwen and Tosh both looked happy and even Owen didn't start in with the sarcasm until after lunch. Ianto went about his day in complete serenity, unperturbed by Weevils and the pterodactyl and the coffee grounds someone had left in the percolator without telling him.

"Did you have a good night last night, Ianto?" Gwen asked him. "I thought I saw you at the symphony."

"Oh, no," Ianto said. "I had a quiet evening at home." Or not so quiet, he supposed, as Jack could not keep quiet during sex if his life depended on it.

"Maybe next year," Gwen said gently and patted his arm. "There's somebody out there for you. I'm certain of it."

He nodded and smiled, and was glad to have an escape to the conversation when Tosh came over to ask Gwen's opinion on an artifact she'd been puzzling over the last few days.

Ianto always felt strangely nervous the morning after a night spent with Jack, but he straightened his tie and took in his first cup of coffee as if nothing had happened. And really, he thought, technically nothing had: they'd had supper, they'd talked, they'd gone back to his flat. So what if Jack had stayed longer than he ever had before--so what if the sex itself had been more than its usual brilliant, it had been-- _different_.

Tender, he supposed, was the word he was looking for. It had been tender.

"Good morning, sir," he said simply, placing the coffee cup on Jack's desk.

"Good morning." Jack's tone was warm and his smile wide. "What news this morning?"

"Nothing yet, sir. It might be a quiet day." He rapped his knuckles on Jack's desk and Jack smiled again.

"A good day for archiving and filing, then."

"Very well, sir." He turned to go.

"Ianto," Jack said and Ianto turned back to him. "That song, the one that man was playing in the plaza. Do you know if it's been recorded by anyone?"

"Yes. I have a copy of the CD upstairs, point of fact."

"I'd like to hear it."

Ianto nodded and Jack picked up his coffee cup, and they took the lift up to Reception. Ianto put the CD into his computer on the counter, sipped from his own cup, now lukewarm, as they listened. It was poppy and cheerful, this version, and Jack raised his eyebrow a bit at the sound. 

"It's not quite what I was imagining."

"I believe this band is mostly technopop, sir. There's an acoustic cover as well that's quite popular."

"I wouldn't have thought you liked this sort of thing, though."

Ianto smiled a little as he sipped. "This is exactly what I like. I used to go to raves, when I was at university."

Jack looked at him, surprised. "Raves. With the drugs and glow-sticks and house music."

"Yes," Ianto said calmly. "All of that."

Jack laughed. "Oh, I wish I'd known you then. I can just see you, dancing on Salisbury plain, your hands in the air . . ."

"I grew out of it."

"Did you do ecstasy while you were at these raves?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't about the drugs for me. It was about the freedom."

"You don't let yourself go very often," Jack said, and reached out to wrap his hand around Ianto's wrist. "When you're with me is the only time you really do."

"It's only right. Sex is a lot like dancing. You make strange faces, make weird noises, your body does odd things . . ."

"There's no dignity in being free, is what you're saying."

"Well. It can't all be about dignity, can it." He bit his lip, smiling with embarrassment when Jack gently thumbed it free. "Jack."

"Ianto," Jack said patiently and kissed him.

It was enough to make him forget his train of thought. He held onto Jack and thought about reminding him that the doors could open at any moment and there was also the CCTV to consider . . . but instead he just kissed back.

"You were saying something?" Jack whispered finally, and Ianto swallowed hard.

"Something I realized this morning. I . . . I've had sex with you for many reasons," Ianto said as Jack nuzzled and kissed his face. "Mostly just because I wanted to. I think last night was the first time I actually made love to you." Jack stopped kissing him and frowned slightly, and Ianto sighed. "It's just words, I suppose."

"No, I know what you mean."

"It doesn't change anything," Ianto said. "Not really."

"Not where anyone can see but us," Jack said and lay his head on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto stroked his hair.

"Come over again tonight," he said and felt Jack chuckle.

"All right. Barring anything going balls-up tonight, of course. We should get a drink someplace first."

"I'd like that." 

Jack stayed leaning against him for a moment more, then said, "All right. Back to work. And Tosh was making noises about Indian for lunch, do you know a good place?"

"I do. I'll get orders in an hour or so."

Jack nodded, squeezed his hand quickly, and went into the lift. Ianto turned off the CD and opened a program to start transcribing interviews. It would be an ordinary day, as ordinary as their days were. 

_Nothing's different,_ Ianto thought. _Not really. It's just better now._

end


End file.
